Shades of a Tennis Ball
by kikibouba
Summary: Collection of one-shots and drabbles: Just like how a tennis ball has no top or bottom, no right side up or right side down, Tezuka's and Sakuno's relationship is open to many interpretations.


I honestly don't know why this pairing is so appealing to me. They have no chemistry, no interaction whatsoever in the canon, and yet, I feel like they have so much potential. Perhaps I love Tezuka/Sakuno because I can relate them to Kakashi/Sakura. =D Anyways, this drabble doesn't have very many details specific to either character and can actually work with any characters that plays tennis, but I'm most happy with this pairing.

Okay, this story is kind of rough because I've had it on my computer for a long time, and I really didn't feel like proof-reading it and editing very much, I just wanted to post it. I'm sorry if it's badly written, but I hate leaving finished pieces unpublished. It's so unrewarding.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Prince of Tennis or any of these characters.

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"It's like a tennis ball," Ryuzaki Sakuno would say whenever people would ask her that question. Why she and Tezuka Kunimitsu love each other? How does their relationship work?

"It's green like a tennis ball."

It's new – they're both so new at this. He took two years to admit he had feelings for her and she is still surprised when he expresses any explicit emotions. Usually, he's all subtleties and implied meanings; it's strange for her when she can immediately understand what he says and how he means it. Even she hesitates to voice many of the insecurities and doubts she feels.

Green and fresh, like the newly blossomed flowers of spring, yes, that is a good way to describe themselves.

"It's round."

Just like Sakuno's eyes when she saw Tezuka shirtless for the first time after he returned to Japan.

In middle school, it seemed like their only common interest was tennis and their personalities were at the opposite ends of the universe. She never had anything more than respect for him.

When Sakuno entered high school, he returned from his international travels, deciding to play tennis locally for a while. She's loath to admit it now, but she could only remember his impeccable tennis techniques from middle school and the way girls swooned over him. Always focused on Ryoma, she could never understand why. Luckily, Ryoma left for the US after graduating middle school, allowing Sakuno to learn how easily she could live without him.

Then she had the honor of witnessing the new and improved Tezuka practicing on a private court, framed by sunlight … without his shirt. _Boy, if those old fangirls could see the man before her now_ was one of the only coherent thoughts that ran through her head. Honestly, how could anyone expect to walk away from a vision like that without being permanently affected?

Every time she saw him, she inadvertently stared with round eyes until he could no longer ignore it. When he confronted her about her awkward habit, Sakuno couldn't come up with anything else but the truth – she was very attracted to him. He took the news very well, although he was somewhat shocked by how bluntly she had stated her feelings. For the next couple years, he gave no indication that he returned any of her feelings. Often, he would _just_ tolerate her presence. Sakuno suspects it was her homemade bentos that wore him down.

"It's fuzzy."

Despite what the girls thought, fuzzy is not analogous to what Sakuno feels around Tezuka at all. On the contrary, she feels on the brink of falling every time she is with him. Her heart starts drumming out a beat that sounds curiously similar to Beethoven's fifth symphony.

Strange isn't it? As a pre-teen in love with Ryoma, she could have sworn there were seagulls in her stomach and that she walked on marshmallows whenever Ryoma spoke to her. In Tezuka's embrace, she feels like a chaos of colors and overloading senses, as if she is trying to absorb him and everything around them at that time. She could die any moment at Tezuka's side with those sensations running through her, but she also knows he would run to hell to bring her back.

It was a rush, nothing fuzzy about it at all.

What she really means by "fuzzy" is hysterically ironic, actually. Tezuka prefers fuzzy things. She didn't realize this at first. His hard edges and cold stares lead her to believe, of course, that he preferred everything to be neatly cut and dried, with no complications and unnecessary decorations. Then she wore a fleece scarf during the winter, he couldn't stop reaching out and discreetly rubbing the material between his fingers. The small, nearly invisible, grin of enjoyment led Sakuno to this revelation.

Now she understood why he was so harsh with his teammates, and people in general. Hiding his fetish and acting strict was his attempt to intimidate those around him; not to say he's emasculated by this characteristic. It's only natural to prefer a certain type of texture that causes such a warm sensation against skin.

"It's an object created for the purpose of being battered and bruised."

They have their problems. Tezuka can't expect her to read his mind all the time. She forces him to speak, but sometimes his terse words hurt her more than his silence.

"It's aerodynamic."

Then, when they're together and they understand each other perfectly, it feels like she's flying.

"It's as simple as a tennis ball."

Then the questioners would complain that the way she had described a tennis ball was not simple at all. How could someone derive so much meaning from the object? It was probably the most complex definition of a little green ball they had ever heard. They would whine that they didn't understand what she was trying to explain because it was anything but simple.

And Sakuno would merrily reply, "Exactly."


End file.
